Small Details
by mcatB
Summary: Sometimes things don't go according to plan.
1. Chapter 1

Small Details

Mady Bay - 

January 4, 2009

The con had gone as planned. Or as well as they usually go – a few small glitches along the way, but overall, the Leverage agency set out to do what they'd planned. Over the past month, Nate and Sophie had come to the small town of Chenango several times, posing as a newly married couple, "Nelson and Linda Cooper," looking to buy their first house together. They were "starting their lives over" as they'd told the real estate broker, leaving their previous, loveless, marriages behind.

The real estate broker, Mr. William Ives, "seeing" through their current bank statements that they'd both gotten the better deals in their divorce proceedings (thanks to Hardison), that they'd be prime customers, quickly started showing them homes to buy. The fact that said homes were in slowly sinking marshlands owned by the realtor and not the names of the people on the deeds nor the fact that the homes' inspections and other pertinent paperwork for a legitimate home buying were all forged and/or fictitious, were never mentioned to Mr. or Mrs. Cooper. Nor to Mr. and Mrs. Frank Patterson, the Leverage agency's clients, a couple that had been swindled out of $400,000.00 by Mr. Ives and his band of thieves and crooked lawyers.

Yes, their con had gone as planned. Nate and Sophie managed to sell Mr. Ives "their" former homes – because, after all, they'd have to sell them first, before buying his land – and of course, there were no such homes. Hardison had done his magic in the computer world, right from his office, transferring monies electronically and illegally – his specialty. Eliot had been along for the ride, providing possible back-up – the team wasn't sure how much of the town, especially the local law enforcement, was in on Ives' dealings. He played chauffer for Nate and Sophie – nearby if they needed his special skills. Parker had sat this one out, her skills not needed.

The team had questioned Nate about this con, Hardison pointing out several times that they could do all this electronically, from their office, that a few keystrokes was all that was needed to transfer the monies from Ives' account to the Pattersons'. While Nate had agreed, he also knew that a certain sort of "revenge" was in order for Ives. The Pattersons were a young couple expecting their first children – twins – and Ives took them for all they had and more. Nate wanted to be there in person to see Ives go down for the count.

So when Nate and Sophie left the realtor's office, and headed for the limo, they didn't think twice about the fact that Eliot's hair was out of its ponytail. Or that his black uniform had some dirt on it. They'd heard the scuffle he'd had with the realtor's muscle – his brother-in-law – over their earpieces, shortly after the "Coopers" told Ives that their deal was off. He'd smiled curtly at them as he opened the door to the limo and then closed it after they'd gotten in.

It wasn't until they were well out of town that Nate and Sophie began to question the day's events, the small details of their con, when Eliot pulled the limo over to the side of the road.

"Eliot?" Nate called through the small window between the driver's area of the limo and the passenger compartment. When Eliot didn't reply, Nate called again, leaning forward, poking his head through the window. "Eliot?"

What he saw worried him. Eliot was pale and sweaty, looking like he would be sick any minute.

"Think you better drive, Boss," Eliot rasped, closing his eyes tight, obviously fighting off pain. Then he lifted his left hand up for Nate to see. "Bastard had a boot-knife," he said by way of explaining the blood that covered his hand.

"Oh, God, Eliot!" Nate exclaimed, hurrying for the door. "Sophie, call Hardison, find out where the nearest hospital is!"

Nate made his way over to the driver's door of the limo and opened it up. Taking a quick glance at Eliot's pale face first, Nate reached for his teammate's jacket and pulled it open. Eliot's entire left side was wet with blood.

"Got me just under my ribs. Broke one or two," Eliot gasped, trying not to cough.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Nate asked, taking his coat off and folding it to use as a bandage.

"Been hurt worse. Thought I'd get us home."

Nate stopped what he was doing, shocked, yet at the same time, not shocked at all by Eliot's statements. He didn't even hear Sophie arrive at his side.

"We're at least an hour's drive from the nearest hospital," She announced, successfully hiding the shock she was feeling inside upon seeing the amount of blood on Eliot's clothing.

"Help me get him in the back," Nate ordered.

Eliot tried to get out of the car himself, muttering painfully that he'd been in worse situations with worse wounds.

"We believe you," Sophie told him.

"But shut up and let us help anyway," Nate added.

After some shuffling and pain-filled groans, they managed to get Eliot to lie down on one of the bench seats. Nate pressed down hard on his jacket-turned-bandage.

"God dammit, Nate!" Eliot practically screamed, shoving back, nearly knocking Nate to the floor of the car.

"You want to bleed to death? Hold still!" Nate shot back, continuing to hold the pressure on the stab wound. He was about to tell Sophie to take his place, when he heard the car door close.

Through the window, Sophie called back, "Hang on!" as she started the limo's engine up and got them back on the road.


	2. Chapter 2

Eliot groaned and hissed in pain as the limousine's movement rocked him against the seat.

"Take it easy!" Nate called out to Sophie. "Take it easy," he repeated, this time whispering to Eliot.

Nate took a look around the back of the limo, looking for anything that might help. After placing Eliot's hands on top of his jacket to hold the pressure on the wound, he scooted across the compartment to the cabinet containing the limo's portable bar. He found a stack of paper cocktail napkins, and thought to use them as dressings.

"If you find any good whiskey in there… I'll take some," Eliot told him, the tone of his voice giving away how much he wanted something to dull the pain.

Nate looked back over at Eliot. "Somehow I don't think that would be too good of an idea, Eliot," he told him. "I don't need you puking on me." _I've already got your blood on my hands,_ he thought to himself.

He returned to Eliot's side with the stack of napkins. Eliot moved his hands away, allowing Nate to lift his coat off of the wound, wiping it gently as he did to get a better look.

After seeing the bruised, jagged puncture and not liking the sight one bit, Nate put some of the napkins over it, pressing a little more gently this time. Eliot's hands covered his and their eyes met briefly before Eliot closed his, pain obviously shooting through him.

"Thanks, Nate," he whispered after a few moments and loosened his grip on Nate's hands.

"So you've had worse?" Nate asked, hoping to distract Eliot, and needing something other than awkward silence.

"Once or twice. That… that time with the monkey…"

Nate nodded and smiled, letting out a little huff of a laugh. He knew all about that job. It was a couple of years before his first dealings with Eliot, and he had heard about it through the various channels and circles of people in his former line of work. It was one that truly caught Nate's interest – and the main reason Eliot was now part of the Leverage team.

"… swore those guys… were gonna…"

Nate waited for the rest of the story, but no words came, only gasps for air and a low, painful keening.

"Eliot?"

Nate saw that Eliot was really starting to have difficulty breathing. What had been occasional gentle coughs and gasps coupled with small whimpers of pain were no more.

"Can't… catch…" Eliot gasped painfully

Nate caught hold of Eliot's arms as they began flaying out, trying to grab onto the top of the seat.

"Easy, Eliot," he tried to soothe. "Come on. You need to lay still."

"Up!" Eliot yelled. "Sit me up!"

Realizing that Eliot probably had more emergency medical knowledge than he did, Nate quickly maneuvered behind him, grabbed him under his armpits, and as gently as he could, lifted him up, to a semi-sitting position.

By the time Eliot was satisfied, though, after cursing, gasping and nearly bruising Nate's supportive arms, Nate found himself shoved into the corner of the seat, against the door, with Eliot's back to his chest.

Eliot's head fell back against his shoulder, exhaustion showing, breathing labored and quick. Nate did the only thing he could do – held onto Eliot for all he was worth, keeping pressure on the still bleeding wound and keeping him upright.

"Better?" he asked after a few minutes, after Eliot finally seemed to have settled.

Eliot just nodded his head.

"Sophie?" he called. "How much longer?"

He looked forward through the window at Sophie when she didn't reply. He realized she was talking to someone else. He listened to her side of her conversation with Hardison, who must have been relaying directions as she drove.

When she finally stopped talking to Hardison, she called back, "How is he?" But when she met Nate's gaze in the rearview mirror, she saw his answer.

"Alec and Parker are going to meet us at the hospital," she told him. "Alec has already called the state police – to explain the speeding limousine on the roadways and maybe even give us a police escort there."

"Which… means… they'll be there… too," Eliot rasped, so low that only Nate heard him.

But Sophie saw the worried look in Nate's eyes. "They'll be posing as federal agents handling the attempted assault on an international diplomat," she said, briefly explaining their plan. "Good thing your bodyguard/chauffeur saved your life," she added.

"Yes, he did," Nate replied quietly.

He felt a gentle squeeze on his hands and looked down at Eliot.

"Not your… fault… Boss," Eliot whispered back.

_I beg to differ_, Eliot, Nate thought. He leaned his head back against the side of the car and sighed. He thought about their first job together, when they were all sent to the hospital after the explosion. They'd been lucky that mild concussions were the worst of their injuries. They all knew the job was potentially dangerous. Hell, Serbia proved that, when they unknowingly ran into those arms dealers. But no one had been hurt. Nothing as serious as this. Nate began to reconsider his team. Could he knowingly put one of them into danger again? What if some other small detail gets overlooked? What if instead of a mad brother-in-law with a boot knife, they meet up with someone seriously deranged? Someone who shoots first and doesn't even bother with the questions? Are the lives of his team worth risking? No matter what the payoff?

Nate's inner musings were stopped short at the sound of a police siren behind the limo.

"He wants me to pull over!" Sophie called back.

"Do it!" Nate ordered. "All it'll take is one look in the back here and we'll be back on the road."

Sophie slowed the limousine down and pulled off onto the side of the road. The shoulder dropped steeply and jostled the two passengers in the back. Even she heard the cry of pain it caused Eliot to voice.

"Sorry!"

She rolled down the side windows of the limo, hoping to expedite things.

The officer approached the limo cautiously and peered inside the rear window. She met Nate's gaze and saw the condition of the man he held in front of him.

"Please, we're trying to get to the hospital," Nate said.

The officer nodded to him and then looked at Sophie, who was leaning out the window, a painful plea on her face, as well.

"Follow me," the officer ordered and rushed back to her patrol car.

The windows were rolled back up and Sophie waited for the police officer to get past the limo before pulling back onto the roadway. She quickly accelerated to match the officer's speed.

"Sophie, if she doesn't go the same way Hardison says to go…" Nate called to her.

"I know," she replied, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. "I'll get us there, Nate," she added. She looked into the rearview mirror again, glimpsing her teammates and friends. _I'll do my job, Nate. You do yours._


	3. Chapter 3

"Tell me about the monkey," Nate asked Eliot, once again hoping to distract him.

"Went in… thinking it was… was some kind of art… or jewel," Eliot began. "Remember that movie… with Michael Douglas?"

"Romancing the Stone?" Nate replied.

"Yeah. No. The next one."

"You _watched_ that?" Nate balked, laughing a bit.

"She used to be hot. And it had… DeVito," Eliot explained.

"I get it. And the reference. You found out too late that it was an actual _monkey_ you were after."

"Yeah."

Eliot took a moment to catch his breath again, closing his eyes for a minute or two. Nate didn't push the conversation. He already knew all the details to the job they were discussing. He had just hoped a little levity might help.

Nate looked forward through the window at Sophie. She was determinedly following the police car on the highway, their limo passing cars left and right. So far so good. He jumped a bit when his phone rang. He carefully let go of Eliot with one hand to grab it. It was Hardison. He put it on speaker so he could put his hand back onto the pile of napkins on Eliot's side. The growing pile.

"What's our status, Hardison?"

"_Looks like you all got another ten miles or so to go. Parker and I are almost there."_

"You told Sophie I'm some kind of diplomat? From where? Do I need an accent?"

"_Just some lower level ambassador from the British Isles. Your first trip here to the States; wanted to see some real cowboys or something. Nothing too fancy."_

"No one needing any more than a combination chauffer/bodyguard or two federal agents to investigate an assault, right?" Nate explained for himself.

"_Exactly."_

"Okay, we'll see you soon."

Nate was about to close the phone when Hardison asked, "_Nate? How is he?"_

Nate took a moment to look at Eliot.

"Still here," Eliot answered for himself, his voice weaker than it had been just moments before. "Barely."

"Make sure they're ready, Hardison," Nate told him.

"_We will."_

Sophie took a quick look at the GPS on the limo's dash and let out a sigh. The police escort seemed legit, as the police officer was following the route Hardison had programmed into the GPS. There had been several opportunities to lead them astray, if the officer had had other plans for them.

On an empty and straight stretch of road, she took another moment to look into the rearview mirror at the men in the back of the car. They were both looking worse for wear. She expected it for Eliot, his injury being the reason she was driving faster than she ever had before. She was surprised, however, by how bad Nate looked.

She hadn't seen him look like that since… since his son was sick. Since his son died.

_Has Nate really formed such a close relationship with Eliot? With the rest of the team? _She knew about her own feelings towards Nate. But what about her teammates? She didn't have to look further than the white-knuckled grip she had on the steering wheel to realize that her teammates were much more than that now. They were her _family._

The police car ahead slowed down and made a sharp turn to the right, leading the limousine onto a smaller road. Sophie checked the GPS again.

"We're almost there!" she called back. "Another two blocks!"

"Hear that?" Nate said to Eliot. "Almost there."

There was no reply. "Eliot?!"

Nate realized that the labored breathing he'd become accustomed to had quieted. He quickly maneuvered from behind Eliot and laid him down onto the bench seat.

"Come on, Eliot, don't do this to me. Not now."

Tipping Eliot's head back, Nate leaned down, his years of CPR training coming back to him in an instant, and looked, listened and felt for breath. Finding none, he gave Eliot two breaths. He felt for a pulse, was relieved to find one, and continued rescue breathing for his friend.

Before he knew it, the limo door opened and Sophie was there, telling him to move out of the way so that the medical team could get to Eliot.

They watched as the team swooped in and took Eliot out of the limousine, quickly transferring him to a stretcher. They tried to keep up the pace, following Eliot into the hospital, but found themselves blocked by the staff when they got to the treatment area.

"If you could see the Admissions clerk over there," a nurse pointed out to their left, "she'll need information about your friend."

Sophie and Nate headed that way, wondering just what they would tell the woman. Sophie took Nate's hand, knowing it was "show time" again, when she saw the police officer that had led them to the hospital waiting at the Admissions desk.

"Officer…" Sophie looked at the name tag on the woman's uniform. "Officer Hislop! How can we ever thank you? We just didn't know what to do when Eliot was hurt!" she gushed, taking the officer's hand and giving it a grateful squeeze. Her sentiments were true – no acting necessary.

"Yes, thank you," Nate added, making sure to use a British accent.

"Happy to help," Officer Hislop replied with a smile. "But if I can get some information about what happened?"

"We're handling that investigation."

Nate, Sophie and Officer Hislop all turned to see Parker and Hardison approach, badges and ID cards flipped out for the officer to see.

"We're with the Embassy," Parker stated.


	4. Chapter 4

Inside the ER treatment area, one room was a flurry of activity as the patient was brought in. The doctors began issuing orders to the nurses as they got a look at the man bleeding in front of them.

"Let's get him intubated!"

"I want him typed and crossed! And get some fluids going!"

"Police dispatcher that called said he'd been assaulted. Knife to the ribs, Doctor Morton," one nurse told a doctor.

"Yup, that's a bit on the obvious side, Carol," the doctor replied dryly as he finished cutting Eliot's shirt off. "What kind of breath sounds you getting, Joe?"

The other doctor, who had his stethoscope on Eliot's chest, looked up and said, "All good on the right, Mike. Left is starting to fill, though; it's punctured."

"Let's get a chest tube in him, then, before it goes full hemo."

Joe nodded his head and looked at the patient again. He shook his head at the stupidity of it all – another young man, in the prime of his life, another victim of senseless violence. He nodded at Carol, who had just finished intubating his patient and was hooking him up to a ventilator.

Another nurse handed him a plastic bag containing the chest tube kit. "Here you are, Dr. Early."

Joe opened the kit and moved to Eliot's side. After cleaning off an area on Eliot's chest, the doctor made an incision between two ribs. A nurse handed him what looked like a small needle with tubing attached and he inserted it into the incision he made. Within moments blood filled the tube, draining out of Eliot's lung.

Joe looked at Mike, who was now doing the listening for Eliot's breath sounds. "Already sounding better."

"How are his vitals, Carol?" Joe asked.

"BP's ninety over sixty; pulse one hundred," she replied.

"How's his O2 sats?" Mike asked.

"Ninety," another nurse answered.

"Okay, good," he replied. "Let's see if we have anything else to deal with."

He and the nurses finished removing Eliot's clothing, looking for any other obvious injuries that warranted their immediate treatment.

In a coordinated effort, the medical team rolled Eliot onto his uninjured side, to take a look at his back.

"Got some bruising down here," Joe reported, pointing to Eliot's lower back. "Put a Foley in him and check for blood," he told Carol.

"Yes, Doctor."

"Okay, let's get CAT scan, focus on the chest, abdomen and kidneys," Dr. Early stated, taking his gloves off and throwing them in the garbage. "He got any family out there?"

"No family, but a cop and some people from the _British Embassy _were out there," Carol replied, her voice and face showing intrigue.

LLL

After speaking with her for a few more moments, gelling their cover story, Hardison thanked Officer Hislop for her assistance and then guided "Ambassador Duncan" toward the men's room. "You might want to clean up, sir," he said, pointing to the blood on Nate's hands and clothes.

Parker, meanwhile, led Sophie to a small office they'd procured for their use.

No sooner had Hardison closed the door to the men's room did he say, "He looked bad, man."

"Understatement of the year," Nate murmured, running his hands under the warm sink water.

Hardison had some IDs in his hand when Nate finished washing and drying his hands. Nate ignored him for a second and looked into the mirror. He decided to splash some cool water onto his face. He needed to regain some semblance of control.

"Ambassador Nathan Duncan, from Great Britain," Hardison said when Nate finally met his gaze and put his hand out for the IDs. "Sophie is your wife. You're here on _holiday_."

Nate nodded his head, putting the IDs into his wallet without even looking at them, removing the Cooper IDs and giving them to Hardison to keep.

"You didn't bring me a new shirt, too, did you?" Nate asked, looking in the mirror at his blood stained shirt.

"Nope, but I can get one for you," Hardison replied. "We got a room down the hall to wait in. I'll meet you there," he added as they exited the men's room and separated.

When Nate met up with Sophie and Parker, he found himself at a loss for words. Sophie had obviously filled Parker in on what had happened, and Eliot's condition. Both women looked worried and distraught. He just nodded to them and sat down tiredly on one of the couches.

After a few silent moments, Sophie spoke up. "We've got to get our ducks in a row."

"Hardison already gave me my new IDs," Nate said.

"Yes, Parker gave me mine," Sophie said. "But are we far enough away from Chenango and Mr. Ives?" When Nate didn't reply right away, Sophie took a closer look at him and reached out to put her hand on his knee. "Nate, he'll be okay. We got him to help."

"He stopped breathing!" Nate shouted, rising up and pacing the small room.

Hardison had just walked in as Nate shouted and wondered quickly if he should back out of the doorway. He looked at the clean shirt he'd gotten from his car.

"They'll take care of him. They'll fix him," Parker offered quietly. "They have to."

Sophie took the shirt from Hardison's hands and walked to Nate, stopping him in mid-pace with a hand to his arm. "Change your shirt, Nate," she whispered, giving a quiet order. "He won't want to see his blood on you when we see him."

The two stared at each other for a moment before Nate nodded his head. "I'm sorry," he told the others. He took a deep breath and let it out. Then he took off his bloody shirt and threw it into the trashcan. He took the clean one from Sophie and slipped it over his head.

There was a knock on the door and Hardison moved to answer it. An older white man in his sixties, Doctor Early, stood outside.

"How's Eliot?" Sophie asked, her voice full of hope.

Dr. Early motioned the group to sit down and then he sat on the small coffee table facing them.

"Eliot?" he said with a smile. "We hadn't even gotten his name," he mused, then continued, "He's been stabilized for the time being." He paused while he listened to the relieved sighs from the group. "Along with the blood loss, he has a couple of broken ribs, one of which punctured his lung. These are our main concerns: replacing his fluids, keeping his oxygen levels up and making sure the lung stays fluid free. We're keeping an eye on one of his kidneys, too. It looks like he may have taken some blows there, by the bruising. Didn't look too serious, though. He's getting some tests done now to determine the extent of the internal bleeding and then we'll be bringing him into surgery."

_Dr. Early, to Treatment Room Three_ was heard over the intercom system.

"Excuse me," the doctor said and left the group.

Nate stood up and began a slow pace. "Hardison, we need to find out if Ives is doing anything – sending out troops looking for us or anything. His brother-in-law, despite whatever condition Eliot left him in, is sure to know he's hurt. They might come looking."

"Already been on it, Boss," Hardison replied. He pulled a laptop out of the briefcase he'd carried in from the car and opened it up. Several screens had been minimized. He picked one and brought it to full screen. "He's been making phone calls – but they've all been to his banks and other front businesses. No law enforcement involvement that I can see," he reported.

"That cop that brought you in here didn't know squat," Parker said. "She was just told that there was an injured person inside the limo. _We_ made the call to the ER, saying we were from the police department and to expect you guys."

"Sounds safe, but it's risky for us to hang here," Hardison said.

Nate looked toward Hardison. "You're right. You all leave. I'll stay here with Eliot."

The others didn't miss the tone of Nate's voice. He was still feeling guilty. Sophie smiled and said, "You're right. It's risky. But I'm not leaving, either."

Nate looked at the others.

"Stuck with us," Parker chimed in. "We're from the Embassy, you know. Gotta watch your backs."

Hardison rolled his eyes and then started typing on his laptop again. "Hotel down the road. I'll get us some rooms."

Author's Note: Cookies to anyone who recognizes the ER staff!


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note – sorry for the delay – life happens. Thanks for waiting so patiently!!

Several hours later, despite attempts by Parker and Hardison, Nate and Sophie were still at the hospital. Which meant that Parker and Hardison were still there, as well.

"How much longer?" Parker asked for the hundredth time, pacing the room again before stopping near one of the windows.

"You go near that window again, Parker – " Hardison threatened, only to be interrupted by Sophie.

"She's not going to jump out the window, Alec. We're only on the third floor. There's no real thrill for her."

"She's just yanking your chain, Hardison," Nate added. "_That's_ her thrill."

"That's not very cool, ya know?" Hardison replied, giving Parker a dirty look.

"This is taking forever!" Parker lamented, ignoring Hardison.

"Trust me. Five hours in a hospital is nothing," Nate said quietly.

Sophie knew what Nate was thinking about. Knew not to bring up the subject. She turned to Parker and said, softly, "You've never had to wait; never cared for someone like this?"

Parker stopped her on-again pacing mid-stride, struck by Sophie's words. "I mean, how long does it take to fix a friggin' lung? The doctor said they had him stabilized," she said, ignoring Sophie's question.

LLL

"Eliot? Eliot, it's time to wake up, Sweetie."

_Sweetie? No one's called me that in years… maybe since Grandma Beck_?

"Eliot… come on, wake up now."

_Who the hell is doing that God-awful groaning?_

"That's it. Deep breath now. Open your eyes."

Awareness. "Shit," Eliot managed to get out.

The nurse laughed and smiled. "Yeah, that's what most people say when they wake up here," she said to him. "But come on, open your eyes for me, Handsome."

"No. No, don' wanna," Eliot slurred, turning his head away from the voice. "Gonna be bad. Don' wanna puke."

The nurse saw the signs – Eliot's eyes were closing tighter, his breaths were coming quicker and shallower – her patient was indeed nauseous, not an uncommon reaction to surgery and anesthesia. She stepped away from the bed and grabbed some cleaning supplies, just in case.

"Okay, keep your eyes shut," she told him, returning to his bedside. "But you still need to do some things for me."

"Hurts."

"I know. That'll get better soon. Just keep your breaths even," she instructed. She added some medication to the IV port. "So tell me your name."

"Eliot."

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Fight?"

"Good enough," she replied. "We'll be bringing you up to a room in just a bit. Dr. Early says you've got some people waiting to see you, first, though. But, don't worry, just a quick visit."

"No, no," Eliot murmured, and the nurse thought she heard panic in his voice. Her thoughts were confirmed when Eliot opened his eyes and began moving about on the bed.

"Hey, easy, you need to lie down!" she exclaimed pushing down on his shoulders.

"Gotta get out of here," he said aloud, pulling at the oxygen mask and IVs, swallowing the nausea, letting out a cry of pain when his wound made itself known to him again.

"I need help in here!" the nurse shouted, climbing onto the bed to get better leverage in holding down her patient.

Her calls were answered quickly, several nurses and a doctor entering the room and helping to hold Eliot down while another doctor administered a sedative. When Eliot was finally quiet and sleeping again, most of the group left. The recovery room nurse and one of the doctors remained. The nurse checked her patient over, replacing the displaced equipment.

"What happened?" the doctor asked.

"I mentioned that there were people that wanted to talk to him and he panicked," she replied with a shrug. "I don't know why – from what I heard, it's not like he's wanted by the police or something – he got hurt saving some diplomat or something."

"That's what they said," the doctor, who happened to be Eliot's surgeon, agreed. "I saw this guy – looks like he's done this sort of thing before. Several times." He pulled down the sheet covering Eliot's torso. The nurse's eyes widened at the scars she saw. The doctor covered him up again as he checked Eliot's vital signs. "Looks like we're going to tell his visitors to come back later."

LLL

"Ambassador Duncan?"

Nate and the rest of the team stood as one as the surgeon entered the waiting room.

"How's Eliot?" Nate asked, remembering to use a British accent.

"He came through surgery just fine."

"That's wonderful news!" Sophie exclaimed, grabbing Nate's hand and squeezing it.

"I'd like to see him, express my gratitude," Nate said.

"And we've got some questions to ask," Hardison put in, stepping closer.

The doctor put his hands up, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry, but he's still very weak. He's not up to visitors yet. Why don't you all come back tomorrow – he'll be a little more coherent and more comfortable then."

"But we need to talk to him," Parker insisted.

"Tomorrow. Please," the doctor told them. "It'll be better for him."

"Fine. Fine. We'll come back tomorrow then," Nate agreed for the group.

After the doctor left them, the team circled up. "We need to talk to him – make sure he remembers the cover," Hardison said.

"Uh, we've got _badges…_" Parker said, showing her fake ID. "We can go wherever we want…"

"Parker –"

"Hey, isn't he like a crime victim or witness or something? Someone who needs guarding?" Parker continued.

Nate looked back and forth between Parker, Hardison and Sophie.

"She's right, Nate," Sophie said with a smile.

"Fine," Nate replied. "Parker, you stay here with Eliot – "_guarding"_ him – and we'll head to the hotel."

LLL

Parker did indeed gain access to Eliot's room, flashing her badge several times. It was probably more times than was necessary, but she was having fun watching the expressions on the hospital staff's faces, most not believing she could be the federal officer she was pretending to be.

When she'd gotten to Eliot's room, though, and got her first look at her teammate, her fun time ended. She mentally apologized for all the nasty things she'd silently yelled at the doctors for taking so long in treating Eliot.

"Oh, Eliot," she whispered, sitting down on the chair next to the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I know it's been a LOOOOONG time since the last chapter, and I apologize. But here's the ending chapter. Hope it was worth the wait.

Parker had managed to snag a couple of women's magazines from the waiting room and brought them to Eliot's bedside, reading them to pass the time. She shook her head at one of them, scanning the cover. "How can they have a headline that says, "Lose weight!" and have a picture of a chocolate cake on the cover? Duh!" she muttered, shaking her head some more before heading to the recipe section. A minute later, her brows furrowed, she added, "easier to just go to the grocery store and buy a cake."

"Won't… taste… as good."

Parker looked up, startled at the whispered words, and met Eliot's tired gaze.

"Hey! You're awake!" she exclaimed, a smile on her face.

"Yeah."

Parker found herself at a loss for words then, not knowing what else to say to Eliot.

Seeing the hesitant look on her face, even in his tired state, he knew she wasn't one for small talk and that this circumstance would make her even more uncomfortable.

"We secure?" he asked, getting her mind back to business. "Nate and Sophie okay?"

Parker sat up then, comfortable with this conversation. "Oh, yeah. You're the only one that got hurt," she said. "You're Eliot Smith – how boring," she reported, rolling her eyes. "You were defending Ambassador Duncan and his wife, when someone tried to mug them. Me and Hardison work for the Embassy and are checking into things." When she saw that Eliot had a look of understanding on his face, she sat back in her seat, bringing one foot up on it and resting her chin on her knee. "You're like a hero or something. And a witness. _ I'm_ protecting _you _right now."

"Don't make… me… laugh, Parker," Eliot got out, trying not to do just that. "I could kick… your ass… from here."

Parker squinted her eyes at him, mocking him. "Not if I pull at a certain tube connected to your anatomy…" she told him, a playful tone in her voice.

Eliot closed his eyes. "You can be… nasty… Parker."

"Remember that, Eliot," she said. "Now go back to sleep."

Later in the morning, the rest of the group showed up. Hardison took over "guard duty" for Parker, and sent her to the hotel to get some sleep. Nate and Sophie were allowed in to Eliot's room for a brief visit.

"Are you doing well, Eliot?" Nate asked. "The doctors say you are," he added.

Eliot smiled at the British accent, but nodded his head, saying, "Yeah, Boss, I'm okay." He grimaced as he tried to sit up in his bed. "When can I get out of here?" he asked.

Sophie smiled as she shook her head, coming to sit on the bed, keeping him from moving any more. "When the doctor says you're ready," she told him, patting his hand.

"Ain't safe. Y'all should get outta here."

"We're fine, Eliot," Hardison put in. "I'm keeping tabs on things – no one's after us. No one's asking snoopy questions. The bills are being paid..."

Eliot was about to protest when Nate held up his hand. He leaned in closer to Eliot, dropped the British accent and said, "He's right, Eliot. We're good. The only job right now is to get you better. And that means staying put."

"Hey, you'll have Parker or me with you twenty-four/seven," Hardison chimed in. "Can't beat that for company – well, my company, anyways."

The look Eliot gave him showed that he would disagree.

"I think it's time Eliot got some rest," Sophie said. "The more rest he gets, the sooner he'll be able to leave – and not need the Embassy's finest watching over him."

Three days later Eliot managed to convince his doctor to release him. Ambassador Duncan and his wife graciously arranged for his transportation home and promised to hire the best medical staff to assist in his rehabilitation.

"I ain't no invalid, guys."

"Just sit in the damn wheelchair, Eliot, so we can get the hell out of this place," Hardison scolded.

"It's only until you leave the hospital and get to the limousine," Sophie added.

Eliot relented and sat in the wheelchair, doing his best to hide the wince of pain in his side.

"See! You can't tell me you ain't still hurtin'!" Hardison admonished. "I'm fine, I'm fine…" he mimicked.

"I can still kick your ass, Hardison," Eliot retorted.

"_Anybody_ can do that," Parker put in.

"How did this turn into a put down Hardison deal?" Hardison asked. "He's the one bein' a pain in the ass!" he added pointing to Eliot, being wheeled toward the elevators.

Nate put a hand on Hardison's shoulder, keeping him from following.

"Everything set here, Hardison?" he asked quietly.

Hardison took a breath to let go of his hurt feelings and nodded to Nate. "Yeah. All the bills are paid – hospital and hotel. Ives and his crew are still running in the opposite direction – set that up before anything went wrong. Anyone tries to follow up on anything here is gonna come up on a dead end."

Nate nodded his head and patted Hardison on the back. "Good work. Now let's get our boy home."

Shortly after the ride started, Eliot closed his eyes. While he was tired, sleep wasn't quite what he needed at the time. The looks he kept getting from his teammates were starting to bother him – not so much in a bad way that they were uncomfortable… yet… they were. He wasn't used to such scrutiny – at least not such _caring_ scrutiny.

In his hospital room it hadn't been that bad. There were distractions – the nurses coming and going, the television, the end of visiting hours. Hell, he even fell asleep a few times – genuinely.

Now, though, for the two hour ride home, all eyes were upon him. If it was anyone else, he would have just told them to go fuck themselves and look somewhere else. But he couldn't say that to this group.

Any other job he may have worked – with any other crew in the world – he would have been dumped on the roadside and left for dead. Caring for an injured teammate wasn't worth the risk in most cases. Not when people were after you.

This team was different. He knew he'd never leave one of them behind. Not now. Not ever. Not family.

He smiled then and opened his eyes.

"Eliot?" Nate asked.

"Thanks, guys. For taking care of me."


End file.
